


You're like a vine that keeps climbing higher.

by barthelme



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Dorms, Humiliation kink, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Multi, Other, Sharing a Bed, Threesome - M/M/M, Verbal Humiliation, this is going to be a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:54:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23845855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barthelme/pseuds/barthelme
Summary: Timmy, a homeschooled and slightly sheltered college freshmen, has to room with Armie and Nick for the year.
Relationships: Nick Delli Santi/Armie Hammer, Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer, Timothée Chalamet/Nick Delli Santi, Timothée Chalamet/Nick Delli Santi/Armie Hammer
Comments: 165
Kudos: 265





	1. Chapter 1

Timmy’s not even mad, honestly. His mom had thought it would be a good idea for him to have a single room. It would be better for his studying, his concentration. Would give him a space that is really his own. Would give him a chance to become his own person or something like that. 

But Timmy didn’t want his own space and the library was a perfectly suitable place to study. He wanted the whole college experience, even if it meant dealing with an annoying roommate who snored. Even if it meant sharing this cinder block cubicle with another human for the next nine months and tripping over their shoes and getting in arguments about whose turn it is to grab more toilet paper from the front desk, to take the garbage out, to pick what show to watch. 

So, when he met his RA and they made a _face_ as they checked the clipboard, Timmy’s heartbeat stuttered. It’s not that he’d had a weird childhood. It had been _fine_ and he honestly would not trade it for anything. Being home-schooled was great and, if his test scores were any indication, he learned more than a lot of his peers. 

But, it would have been nice to have a normal childhood. Would have been nice to pass notes in class, to get nervous about dances, to get detention. And he’d walked for graduation, but it was at a high school he didn’t actually attend. No one knew his name when he walked across the stage and, maybe he was imagining it, but the applause seemed to falter when he was handed his diploma. 

And when the RA, a pretty blond with one of the friendliest smiles Timmy has ever seen said, “So, we got some good news and some bad news,” Timmy had a feeling he wanted that bad news first. “The bad news is we ended up having to give you roommates, Timothée--”

“Timmy,” he corrected her quickly while his mom stepped closer like this was actually some sort of big deal. 

“Timmy! Love it. Okay, so we ended up having to give you roommates, which sucks, but we’re literally over capacity in all of our residence halls at this point. But the _good_ news, is that they’re upperclassmen,” and she winks at him and he can feel his mom’s nerves at the implication of parties and beer and drugs and sex and-- “and one of them is Niki and he is the absolute nicest person probably on this entire campus.” 

“You said roommates, though?” his mom asked. 

She bit her lip and rushed, “And Armie is great, too! He’s Nick’s best friend. He just, you know, takes a bit to warm up to. But, I promise, he’s super great once you get to know him.” 

Her face said otherwise and Timmy was oddly excited. It’s like getting every college experience in one. The bad roommate and the good one. The one that he’s friends with for decades and the one that he tells horrible stories about on his deathbed. 

“But we--” his mom started but Timmy put a hand on her elbow. 

“That’s fine,” he said because it was more than fine. 

And they’d moved him in and built his loft and Timmy had picked what drawers were his and they’d eaten shitty food at the cafeteria and his mom had insisted on helping him find the bookstore and checking where his classes were while his dad dragged behind them, commenting on the architecture while his mom clung to every second of this moment, trying to drag it out. Timmy spent most of the day texting Pauline, who kept reminding him, “Tomorrow, it all starts.”

And all day, he’d wanted them to _go_ because it was embarrassing and he wanted to meet people and just get started already, but when they actually did leave, Timmy felt this odd weight in his stomach. 

But he’s not mad, no. He’s actually pretty happy about having roommates, even if it means he only gets a third of a closet, a single drawer. If anything, it makes the weight in his stomach a bit lighter, because the absence of familiarity is being replaced by the nerves of a new normal. 

He draws his legs up underneath him, his desk chair creaking a bit. Pulls his phone out and looks at his last text from Pauline. 

Pauline: _mom just called me crying and rambling about her little boy_  
Pauline: _you can probably expect daily care packages for the next month._

He grins and starts to text back when his thoughts are interrupted by a loud, “How does it already smell like fucking feet in the hall? Jesus fucking Christ.”

Timmy looks up. 

And up. And over and up and holy shit. 

Timmy is definitely not mad, because if these are his roommates, this is about to be the best nine months of his life. They’re tall, which is something Timmy has to take a second to register. They’re not just tall, they’re like. 

Huge. And Timmy isn’t short, he’s above average, and the few (okay, two) guys he’s fooled around with weren’t much bigger than him, and the entire time he kept wishing that either he was smaller or they were bigger and oh, fuck, how did his mind just go to that. He doesn’t even know these people. 

But they’re tall and the one bitching about the smells is blond and clean shaven and looks like he belongs standing outside a store that sells overpriced polo shirts and the other has dark hair and the softest look as he makes eye contact with Timmy. “Timothée?” The brunette asks, stepping forward and holding his hand out. 

Timmy swallows and corrects, “Timmy,” before reaching out to take the guy’s hand. 

“Nick,” he says with a grin. “This is Armie,” he cocks his head back at the blond, who has folded his arms over his chest and is staring at the beds that have been stacked into a bunk in the corner of the room. 

“Nice to meet y--”

“I want the top,” Armie states and tosses his bag into the room. “I’m going to get food,” he says and is a step out the door before he turns and looks at Timmy, then Nick. “Are you two coming, or what?”

Timmy doesn’t know why. He’s still full from lunch with his parents, but he jumps up and nods. “Yeah, sure,” he says as Nick pats his back. 

And that’s how it starts. 

It starts with a late lunch or early dinner at the cafeteria where Armie is mainly silent as he shovels food in his mouth, gets seconds. As Nick carefully peels the crust off a grill cheese and dips it in tomato soup and smiles as Timmy eats a cookie and drinks orange juice. Says, “I literally just ate, so.”

It starts with Nick asking Timmy about high school and Timmy saying, “Oh, I was homeschooled,” and Armie looking up around a bite of pasta. Asking, “Oh, god, your mom’s not one of those jean skirt wearing religious weirdos is she?” which earns him an elbow from Nick and a head shake from Timmy. 

“Oh, no. Fuck, no, she just wanted me have more freedom in my education,” he explains.

And Armie narrows his eyes and swallows. Says, “Good,” then takes another bite of pasta and it feels like there’s more to this story, but he doesn’t push. 

He doesn’t push and he talks about traveling to France, which earns an eye roll from Armie and questions from Nick. Asks them about their majors (Nick is going into Construction Management and Armie says, “Pre-Law,” and rolls his eyes like it’s obvious, so obvious.) Timmy feels dumb when he says he’s undeclared, but Nick assures him, “You’ll figure it out, you have time.” 

It starts with them going back to the dorm and Nick saying, “Hey, we have to bring our shit in, but later there’s a party if you want to come.” 

And, from the top bunk, Armie groaning into the mattress and saying, “We can’t bring a fucking freshman to the party, Nick,” which makes Timmy blush and say, “No, I think there’s like some hall meeting tonight? Right?”

That makes Nick bite his lip, hold back a smile and Armie actually laugh. “Oh, this is too cute,” Armie says and sits up. Hops off the bunk and says, “I’m going to start bringing stuff up.”

And Timmy offers to help, but Nick says, no, no, just chill we don’t have much. 

They don’t. They each have like two bags of clothes and a shared box of essentials and when Armie is out grabbing their toiletries, Timmy asks, “So why don’t you guys have an apartment?”

And Nick laughs and explains, “Well, we’re both idiots and thought the other had put a deposit down for a campus apartment we looked at,” and Timmy nods like he knows. Doesn’t understand why they didn’t just move off campus or whatever, but Nick answers for him, leaning in, even though Armie’s footsteps can’t even be heard in the hallway. “Armie’s parents cut him off, so money’s tight for him.”

Timmy nods, though he’s not really sure what that all means. Or why Armie didn’t just live in the dorms. Or, really, he doesn’t understand the entire situation. 

When Armie comes back, he stretches plain navy sheets over his mattress and crawls into bed. Naps while Nick and Timmy watch sitcoms. 

Later, Nick asks, “Are you sure you don’t want to come?” 

Their door has been open all day and Timmy has been witnessing the awkward back and forth of people meeting one another, trying to set up a routine, trying to make this new world seem normal while also watching Nick and Armie act like this is just how life is. Not finishing one another’s sentences, but moving around one another like they’ve done this for years, because they have. 

“He’s got his little meeting to go to,” Armie says, and his words sound a little more than teasing as he pulls a hoodie on. 

Timmy licks his lips and glances at Armie whose smile spreads across his face. 

“He has to go meet all the other little freshmen and learn about fire drills. Don’t you, Timothée?”

“Timmy,” he corrects and Nick sighs while Armie nods his head. 

“Tim,” Armie tries. 

“Seriously, call me--”

“Are you fucking ready or not,” Armie asks Nick, and suddenly it feels like Timmy isn’t part of the room anymore. 

Nick runs a hand through his hair and stands up. “Yeah, I’m ready. You sure, Timmy? I mean you are more than--”

“Yeah,” Timmy says. Nods. 

And then they’re leaving, without even taking their keys like they know Timmy will be right where they left him when they come back. 

_____

The meeting is fine. They talk about fire drills and mental health and there are cookies and Timmy learns that his RA is named Saoirse and she’s as sweet as she looks. 

The meeting is fine and Timmy meets some people and they make plans to go to breakfast tomorrow. They sit in the study room talking afterwards and Timmy doesn’t have much to add to the conversation because they’re talking about high school and it’s awkward and he doesn’t know how to say, “I didn’t have that experience, but good for you,” without sounding like an asshole. So he doesn’t say anything at all. 

And he goes back to his room and keeps the door open until everything is silent. Goes to the community bathroom and washes his face, brushes his teeth. Closes the door to his dorm, but doesn’t lock it, and then crawls into bed. 

And it’s late. It’s fucking late when Armie and Nick slam the door open and Nick says, “Jesus, Armie, shut up,” but giggles. 

When Armie says, “Take your pants off,” and Nick responds, “I’ll take my pants off when I want.”

Timmy blinks and tries to make sense of them in the dark, but just sees figures moving, nothing solid. 

But then he hears it and he hates that the sound goes right to his cock. The soft slap of a hand against a cheek and a hissed, “You’ll take your pants off when I tell you to.” 

He hears a zip and the shuffle of fabric and, “Armie, Timmy is here and--”

“And he’s asleep, so he won’t hear you begging for me to fuck your throat, okay?”

There’s silence and the creak of a mattress and the sliding of fabric and, “I missed you,” Armie whispers. “So much.” 

“Armie,” Nick admits and Timmy wants to roll over and look, but he doesn’t. He wants to watch, but he doesn’t. Has to listen to zippers being pulled down and the wet slide of a mouth on a cock, the hiss of, “Yeah, you like choking on me, don’t you? Fuck, I missed how much of a fucking slut you are for a cock in your throat, baby.”

And his cheeks hurt from the blushing, but Timmy’s cock is so hard, so fucking hard, and when he hears Armie come, when he hears him quickly whisper, “Get up here so I can touch that pretty dick, Niki,” he can’t help but thrust against his mattress, can’t help but come in his boxers. 

In the morning, Armie is already awake. He’s sitting at his desk and checking his e-mail. Asks, “Do you want to go for a run with me,” without looking away from his computer and Timmy nods. Says, “Sure,” even though he has literally never gone for a run in his life. 

Armie smiles and says, “Good,” and closes his laptop. Stands up and pulls his shirt off and, no Timmy is not mad. He’s not mad at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say throwaway chapters are okay as long as the phrase "little bitch" is in it, so.

Timmy’s having a hard time keeping up with Armie. Not just because he’s out of shape (incredibly out of shape, he realizes, because Armie is barely even out of breath at this point), but because his sweatpants aren’t really meant for exercising and they keep falling down and Armie’s legs are so fucking long that his light jog feels like a sprint to Timmy. But he doesn’t want to slow down, doesn’t want to call it quits. 

Doesn’t want to give Armie anymore ammunition. Not after this morning when he was apparently too loud and, “Nick’s sleeping.” After this morning when he tripped walking down the stairs and Armie had grabbed the back of his shirt to keep him from falling. Said, “Oh, this is going to be great.” Not after this morning when Armie stood on the sidewalk, stretching and Timmy had no idea what to even stretch so he tried to copy Armie who caught on after two moves and made a _face_. 

He made a face and Timmy couldn’t really place it, but it made his stomach drop and his heart race. Made his mind whirl when Armie simply asked, “You’re good at following directions, huh?” and then laughed. 

He feels his sweatpants slipping down and as Timmy reaches to grab the waistband, Armie huffs, “Jesus Christ,” and comes to an abrupt stop. Timmy stumbles and then stills. “You need to get pants that fit,” Armie says, turns to Timmy and pushes his hands away. Tugs at the waistband of his sweatpants and, god, his thumbs brush over Timmy’s skin, his boxers, as he rolls the waistband once, twice, then lets it snap in place. They feel snug. 

“What are you--” Timmy starts to ask, but Armie cuts him off with a quick, “You sound like you’re going to pass out.” 

Timmy blushes at his words, harder when he realizes that Armie’s hands aren’t going anywhere. Thumbs tucked into the rolled waistband of Timmy’s sweatpants like this is normal, like they didn’t just meet yesterday, like he didn’t spend all day purposely getting Timmy’s name wrong.

“I’m fine,” Timmy says, even though he feels like he might throw up. 

Armie rolls his eyes and tightens his grip on Timmy’s hips. Says, “Don’t lie to me.” 

“I’m _fine_,” Timmy insists again and he tries to back away. Has every intention of starting to jog again, but Armie holds him in place. “Let me--”

“Did you have fun last night?” Armie asks. 

Timmy shrugs and stops fighting against Armie’s hands. Looks up, up, up, and says, “Yeah, the meeting was dumb but I met some people and--”

“No, after that,” Armie says evenly, and he pushes down on Timmy’s waistband a bit. Reveals the top of Timmy’s briefs, the slightest hint of a pubic trail. For a moment, Timmy wonders if Armie would push them down all the way. If this is some sort of weird roommate initiation. He darts his eyes around; it’s pretty quiet. Classes don’t start for a few days and most college students aren’t waking up to go running, not when they have all day to do that. It’s basically just him and Armie and, God, he hates himself for wanting Armie to do it. For wanting to push his buttons until Armie tugs Timmy’s sweatpants over his hips, and _what the fuck_ is that thought. 

Timmy shoves at Armie’s chest. Says, “Please stop,” and Armie does. Drops his hands to his side and starts to walk back towards the dorms. “We can still run,” Timmy says, falling into stride next to him. 

“You didn’t answer me,” Armie notes. His voice sounds like he’s on the edge of a punchline and Timmy doesn’t get the joke. “Did you have fun last night?” 

He remembers the slick sound of Nick’s mouth on Armie’s cock. A choked moan followed by a slight gag and “You need me to stop? Need me to stop because you forgot how to suck cock over the summer, Niki?” teasing the air. 

Timmy’s cheeks feel hot and he shakes his head. “I don’t know--”

“Listen, I’m going to ask this once.” Armie says without even looking at Timmy. Just walking in a straight line, the slap of his sneakers on the sidewalk punctuating his words. “Did you have fun last night or do you want us to stop?” 

Timmy thinks about the sound of Armie spitting, maybe in his hand or directly on Nick’s cock. Thinks about how he thrust against his mattress as he listened to Armie stroking Nick’s dick, listened to Nick whine, to Armie laughing and quietly asking, “You want him to wake up, don’t you? You want that kid seeing how wrecked you look right now, don’t you? Tell me or I won’t touch your dick anymore tonight.” 

Remembers, “Yeah, I want that. Want him to watch me come on myself.”

“I had fun,” Timmy says quietly. The dorm isn’t far away and he feels around in his pocket for his keys. 

He’s not sure what he expects Armie to say, but he definitely isn’t prepared for Armie to say, “I mean, it sure sounded like you had fun. Humping your mattress like a desperate little bitch.” And he’s even more unprepared for the sound that slips out of his mouth, a breathy groan that he tries to push back in with his fingertips, slapping his hand over his mouth and swallowing hard as Armie barks out a laugh. “Oh, fuck, I knew it, I knew it,” Armie says and he looks like a different person all of a sudden. Eyes wide and smile spreading across his face. He hops a bit and lightly slaps at Timmy’s chest with the back of his hand. “Nick wasn’t sure, thought we’d have to tone it down for you, but you love it, don’t you?” 

Timmy pulls his keys out as they approach the front entrance. Unlocks the door and says, “Don’t be mean, Armie,” even though he wants Armie to keep going, to keep pushing. 

He hurries inside and is three steps up the staircase when Armie grabs him from behind, tucks his hands into Timmy’s waistband again. Presses his lips to Timmy’s ear and whispers, “I’m not being mean, Timmy. I’m being honest. And, if you want me to stop, I will. If you want us to stop, last night will be a fluke and we won’t ever do that again, okay?” 

Timmy blinks at the cinder block in front of him and asks, “And what if I don’t want you to stop?”

Armie’s grip on Timmy’s hips tightens and he presses the lightest of kisses behind Timmy’s ear. “Then, tonight, maybe we’ll watch you fuck against your mattress. Maybe we’ll watch as our needy little freshman shows us just how much he wants to join us.” He pulls back and kisses the base of Timmy’s neck, pulls at his sweatpants then lets them snap in place. “Nick thinks you’re hot, by the way.” 

He starts taking the stairs two at a time and Timmy has to jog to keep up, his legs already feeling like jello. “Oh? And you don’t?”

Armie shrugs and looks over his shoulder as he opens the door to their hall for Timmy. “I hardly know you, Tim,” and it sure sounds like, ‘You need to prove yourself, first.’

And Timmy doesn’t know where to start. Doesn’t know how to prove himself, let alone win Armie over. Armie makes no effort to move aside as Timmy passes through the doorway and maybe it’s his imagination, but as their bodies touch for a brief second, he thinks he feels Armie’s hips shift forward, bumping against the side of his thigh. 

Their door is unlocked and Nick is sitting on Armie’s lower bunk. Wearing a t-shirt that looks slightly too big and boxers. His hair is a mess and his face looks puffy with sleep, but when he looks up, he smiles at Timmy and he looks so soft. 

Then, he fucking beams at Armie, whose entire demeanor seems to have changed. Who is looking at Nick with a fondness Timmy doesn’t expect. Doesn’t know how he would handle Armie looking at him that way. 

Nick asks, “How was your run?”

Timmy expects Armie to say something snide. A comment on how out of breath Timmy got almost immediately. How slow he was. His stupid sweatpants. 

“Good,” Armie says, wrapping his arm around Timmy’s shoulder. Cupping his giant hand over his shoulder and pulling Timmy tight against his side. “Timmy here has some potential as a running partner.”

Timmy doesn’t miss that Armie gets his name right. That he doesn’t call him Tim or Timothée, using a mocking tone as he’s doing so. It makes his stomach settle, his muscles relax. All morning he’d been wondering if it was always going to be like yesterday. Getting along with Nick but feeling on edge around Armie. Feeling as though Armie was constantly circling, waiting to strike. 

Timmy wonders if Armie will tell Nick about what they talked about after the run. Wonders if he’ll do it in front of Timmy. Hopes that he doesn’t, the idea of having to sit there while Armie says, “Timmy here wants to hump his mattress like a desperate bitch for us, Nick.” 

Except, Armie would probably be more creative. Wouldn’t use the same phrase twice in one day. Seems like the type who has a plethora of ways to make someone fall apart with just his words and, Timmy doesn’t know why, but he yearns to make Armie speechless, just once. 

Instead, Armie lets go over Timmy. Gently pushes him aside and grabs a toiletry bag from the top of his closet. Says, “We should shower, yeah? Breakfast?” 

Nick is slow getting out of bed. Stretches and his shirt slips up, revealing tan flash. A hair belly that looks firm enough to rest your head on; soft enough to bite, and wants to do both. Thinks about how Armie said, ‘Nick thinks you’re hot,’ and his cheeks burn when Nick catches his eyes. 

When he smiles and asks, “You think you can keep up with Armie?” And Timmy realizes that this is how he proves himself. Glances at Armie, who is watching Nick, then Timmy. Waiting. 

And it’s just a question, but then Nick takes two steps across the dorm, slides his hand gentle across Timmy’s side as he walks by him, then stands in front of Armie. Leans up to kiss Armie’s cheek. Takes the toiletry bag from him and then slips his feet into some flip flops at the bottom of the closet. They don’t match; one is black and the other is navy. A cheap foam pair you can get at any dollar store. 

He looks back at Timmy, who is wondering if he means more than running. If he can keep up with Armie in general. Wonders, fleetingly, if he should take Nick’s hand, the one that trailed along Timmy’s side, and pull him closer. Make him lean down to kiss Timmy to--

“Timmy?” Nick asks. Smirks. 

Timmy nods. “Yeah, I think so.” Watches as Armie toes off his shoes. Yanks off his socks and tosses them in the hamper. Waits for him to slip on the leftover flip flops,one navy and one black, his heels hanging slightly over the edge. “Might take a bit of practice,” he admits, and Armie laughs. Looks up at Timmy and shakes his head. 

Questions, “A bit?” And his words are playful but his glare is harsh. He tosses a towel at Nick, grabs one for himself, and then heads for the door. Timmy grabs his own bag, a towel from his side of the closet (and seeing Nick and Armie’s clothes all jumbled together on one half of the closet while Timmy’s take up the other half makes something in the back of his mind twist and turn), kicks off his own shoes and changes into rubber slides before following after them.

It doesn’t really sink in that Nick and Armie have one bag until they’re in the communal bathroom and Armie and Nick step into one of the shower stalls, closing and locking it behind them. There’s no one else in the bathroom except them--it’s still fairly early--but Timmy gets the feeling they wouldn’t care if there was. 

He doesn’t say anything, but goes to brush his teeth first. Listens as Nick and Armie talk quietly, their words too whispered to echo of linoleum, but Timmy strains to catch anything. Wants to know if Armie is telling Nick about their run, about Timmy not wanting to stop whatever’s starting between them all. 

All he hears, though, is soft laughter. The rustle of clothes and, “Look at you, Niki.” 

Timmy brushes his teeth and tries not to look in the mirror. Tries not to catch the reflection because, when he gives in and looks, he sees four feet, two pairs of flip flops. So close and comfortable that, if it weren’t for the contrast of their dark and light leg hair, Timmy might not be able to tell whose is whose. 

He spits and listens to the water start. Rinses and hears, “Tilt your head back, baby,” and thinks about guiding Nick under the spray. Helping him get his hair damp, pushing it away from his face. 

About Armie’s hair on his own scalp, massaging shampoo into his curls. Rinsing it out; carefully keeping the soap from getting in his eyes. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. Grabs his bag and brings it into the shower stall. 

With his own shower running, it’s impossible to hear anything from Nick and Armie’s, not that he tries. But, their shower seems to end soon after Timmy’s starts. He hears Nick laugh, the slap of flip flops. A faucet running, two squirts of shaving cream. 

He showers quickly, debates jerking off. Decides against it because if Armie were to wonder what was taking Timmy so long, he doesn't think he would be polite about it. Would probably knock on the stall door and let the words, ‘Starting without us?’ echo across the bathroom. 

(Oh, fuck, but what if he went a step further. What if he said, ‘Did I tell you you were allowed to do that?’ Worse, what if he waited until other people were in the bathroom, if he waited until other people could hear and said, ‘Need a hand, Tim?’ God, would he call him Tim or would he stick with Timmy?

After the harsh glare back in the dorm, Timmy is pretty sure he knows the answer to that.)

Timmy’s cock twitches at every option, but he quickly showers and dries off. Wraps a towel around his waist before walking out into the main area where Nick and Armie are shaving in front of a large mirror. He clutches his dirty clothes to his chest, his toiletry bag.“I’m just going to--” Timmy starts to announce, but then Armie is lowering his razor. Reaching out a hand and cupping Timmy’s jaw. 

He can smell the shaving cream. A bit of it sticks to his cheek and he has to look away as Armie examines his face. As he smirks and says, “Probably couldn’t grow anything if you wanted, huh?”

“Armie,” Nick says, his voice low. Not combative, but _something_. Warning, maybe. 

Timmy looks back at Armie. Watches as his eyes soften a bit and his smirk turns to a smile. As he lets his gaze travel down Timmy’s body and, well. Timmy can’t help but look at Armie’s body. At his broad shoulders and solid waist. Where his towel’s tucked above his hip. 

Can’t help but look past him at Nick, who’s leaning over the sink. Puffing out his cheek as he shaves. He’s thinner than Armie. A bit shorter, but his lank makes him seem longer. 

Armie’s pats Timmy’s cheek like he’s trying to earn his attention. Says, “We’ll see you back in the room, yeah?” Trails his hand down Timmy’s neck, his chest. His belly. Timmy stands up straight and spreads his shoulders. Swallows as Armie hooks his thumb against where his towel is tucked at the waist. 

Squares his jaw and looks Armie in the eyes. In his peripheral vision, can see Nick watching them. Can see him shake his head, then go back to shaving. 

“Yeah, I’ll see you back in my room,” he says. Puts a hand on his towel and backs up. 

“Our room, Tim,” Armie calls after him, but Timmy doesn’t turn around, not even when he hears Nick ask, “The fuck was that about?” Leaves and goes back to the room. Closes the door, but doesn’t lock it. 

_____

Timmy doesn’t wait. Gets dressed and walks to the cafeteria alone. Grabs a tray and starts to pile food on. Yogurt, granola, some wet looking scrambled eggs. Bacon. Thinks about a bagel, but ends up wanting a waffle. Pours the batter into the press and turns it on just as a hand touches his back. He moves to the side, thinking he’s in the way, but the hand fists in his t-shirt and he looks up to see Nick. 

“The waffle makers here are shit,” Nick notes. “You’re better off waiting in line for pancakes,” he says, nodding over to a small line behind them. Timmy doesn’t want to admit that he wants to learn how the waffle makers work before there is a huge audience. Before campus is full and they can tell he’s doing something unfamiliar, wrong. “Armie puts a complaint in the suggestions box at least twice a week.” 

Nick grabs one of the containers of syrup. Drizzles it on his eggs. “That’s disgusting,” Timmy says. Flips his waffle. 

“Disgusting?” Nick scoffs. He leans his hip against the counter and picks up a chunk of egg between his fingers. Offers it to Timmy who stares at the egg. Nick’s thick fingers, which are attached to a hairy wrist, arm. 

Licks his lips and looks up at Nick as he leans forward and takes the offer between his lips. Lets his teeth graze Nick’s skin and grins against his fingers when Nick bites his lower lip. Shifts his hips a bit forward on the counter. His knee touches right above Timmy’s and he whispers, “Armie isn’t, like. He likes you, okay?” 

Timmy sucks the egg into his mouth. It tastes sweet with a hint of salt from the egg, Nick’s skin. “Seems like it.”

“We’ve just known each other a long time,” Nick explains. 

The waffle maker beeps and Timmy opens it. Half the waffle sticks to the top, even though he’d sprayed it with butter. “God damnit,” Timmy hisses. Grabs a fork to start to peel it off. “Are you two like--”

And Nick laughs. Shrugs and ruffles Timmy’s hair. “You’re cute.” Then, he grabs his plate and walks off towards the dining area.

____

They sit in a triangle at a circular table, but Timmy can’t help but notice how Armie hooks his his toes under the leg of Nick’s chair. How, when Nick realizes he forgot a fork, Armie immediately starts to stand up, but Timmy beats him to it. Waves him back down and says, “I got it, I got it.”

And as he walks back to the serving area to grab a fork, he thinks about how forward Armie was this morning. How he got Timmy alone, away from Nick who--Timmy is starting to think--doesn’t do well with a negative response. Got Timmy alone and pressed him for an answer and, yeah. Maybe Timmy can keep up with Armie. 

He grabs a fork and heads back to the dining area. Stands next to Nick and holds it out. And when Nick looks up at him, smiles, and softly says, “Thanks, Timmy,” he doesn’t hesitate. Presses his hand against the back of Nick’s neck, barely any pressure behind his palm, and then leans down. Kisses his forehead while looking across the table at Armie.

And a fond grin spreads across Armie’s face. He asks, “Timmy, do you want to come to a party tonight?”

“Sure,” Timmy says as he sits, ducking his head down and hoping his cheeks don’t look as flushed as they feel. Praying his voice doesn’t crack as he nods and says, “Might be fun.” 

Takes a bite of his ragged waffle and almost chokes when Armie reaches over to ruffle his hair. Tugs slightly and says, “Oh, it’ll be fun, kid.”


	3. Chapter 3

The party is fine. 

The party is fine because a girl hands Timmy a beer the moment he walks through the door and he recognizes someone from their hall and he’s able to split away from Nick and Armie almost immediately. Says, “I’ll catch up with you guys?” and Nick nods and Armie doesn’t even make eye contact. 

He spends part of the night talking to a guy named Stéphane and finding out they’re in the same Sociology class. Timmy has another beer or three and ends up dancing with some girls and spends little to no time thinking about what’s happening tonight. What happened last night, this morning. And, not because he doesn’t want to think about it. God, no. He just knows that if he overthinks it, he’ll back out. 

And he _knows_ he doesn’t really want to back out. That he wants to say yes to things that were never even an option before. 

By the time he runs into Armie again, his lower lip is numb and the back of his neck a bit sweaty. He grins, even though he doesn’t know why, and puts his hand on Armie’s waist. Says, “Hey,” and Armie rolls his eyes. Pushes him away. 

“You’re drunk,” Armie states. Wraps his hand around Timmy’s wrist and starts dragging him towards the living room. 

“I’m not--” Timmy insists, but then Armie is plopping onto a couch. Pulling Timmy into his lap. “I’m not,” Timmy states. 

And Armie wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him close. Pulls him close so his cock rubs against Timmy’s ass. “You need to sober up. Get some water.”

“I’m not--” Timmy starts to argue, but then he hiccups. Slaps his hand to his mouth. 

Armie licks his lips and his tongue catches Timmy’s earlobe. “Not really into you getting off for me if you’re wasted,” he hisses and Timmy thinks about this morning for the first time in hours. Thinks about how they’re going to watch Timmy hump his mattress. Get off on nothing but his bed and the friction against his cock. On the idea of Nick and Armie just watching him, probably taunting him. Telling him how he looks so pathetic and needy and _fuck_ when did this become such a turn on? 

Timmy cracks his neck; swallows down another and counters, “Who says I’m getting off for you?” But his cock is already starting to harden in his jeans.

And then Armie drapes an arm over Timmy’s lap. Uses his forearm to block Timmy’s crotch. Slips his hand over his dick. It looks casual, like Armie’s holding him, but he whispers, “Because I know you’re a little slut and you at least want to make Nick happy, don’t you?” Tightens his grip on Timmy’s cock and asks, “You want him to see this little dick--”

Timmy leans his head back on Armie’s shoulder and turns his lips to his ear. “Not so little, is it?” 

And there’s a pause. There’s a pause because Nick enters the room and looks directly at them; rolls his eyes then walks over to a group he seems to know. Blends into their conversation. 

There’s a pause because the glance from Nick makes Timmy’s cheeks flush more than Armie’s hand on his cock. Nick’s glance seems to say, ‘Can you two figure this out?’ 

A pause because he’s not entirely sure why he _wants_ to keep up. If this is just part of him trying to say yes in situations he might have said no last year. To put himself out there and try new things. Three days ago, he’d had nothing but vanilla relationships and no idea he’d get turned on by being called a “little bitch” and now he’s sitting on a relative stranger’s lap in the middle of a house party, wanting nothing more than to grind back on the thickening cock underneath him. To know everyone in this room could watch. Could stand around and watch Timmy try to get Armie off. 

There’s a pause because Armie seems to be taken back by Timmy’s words, Nick’s eye roll. 

Timmy pushes Armie’s hands away, surprised by how easily he lets go. Stands up and says, “I’m going to get water.” Watches as Armie reaches down to shamelessly adjust his half hard cock without looking away from Timmy. Thinks about how, if anyone’s paying attention, they will make a very obvious pair. “You coming?” 

He holds his hand out, but Armie swats it away. Stands up and puts his palm on the small of Timmy’s back. “You can barely stand up straight,” he says. Gives him a little push and starts to guide him towards the kitchen. Lowers his voice even though Timmy is certain no one would have been able to hear over the music anyways. 

Nods at a group of guys who smile at Armie, but then scan their eyes down Timmy’s body. “If I hadn’t found you, you’d probably be getting fucked by one of these assholes. Maybe all of them, yeah? Bent over the bathroom sink and made to just take their cocks one after another.”

“Stop,” Timmy says quietly as Armie pushes him into the kitchen. Roughly turns him around and grabs Timmy by the waist. Hefts him up onto the counter. Timmy sways a bit and Armie’s hands stay firm on his waist until he steadies himself. 

Timmy is vaguely aware of people in the room. Aware of people who just watched Armie manhandle him onto the counter, who is now opening cupboards until he finds cups. Fills one with water then brings it to Timmy’s lips, forcing him to tip his head back and drink. 

Vaguely aware of how Armie puts the cup down and pulls the collar of Timmy’s shirt up to wipe the moisture from his lips. “You want me to stop, Timmy? You want me to stop talking about how you walked into this party and half the people were already thinking of ways to get you alone? To get you all alone so they could--”

“Armie,” Timmy whispers. 

Armie brackets his hands on either side of Timmy’s hips. Leans in until their cheeks are touching. Until he can whisper just to Timmy, like it’s their secret (and maybe it is.) “You call the shots here, Timmy, you know that, right? If you want me to stop I--”

“I wouldn’t fuck some strangers--”

“I’m a stranger. Nick’s a stranger and it seems like you’d let us do just about anything to you. How am I supposed to know you aren’t into strangers fucking you and--” 

Timmy swallows and focuses behind Armie. Watches as Nick comes into the kitchen. Leans against the doorway and crosses his arms. 

“Because I trust you,” Timmy admits, and it’s the truth. He trusts Armie because of how he seems protective of Nick. Trusts Nick because of the control he gives over to Armie. Because both of them were vulnerable in front of Timmy and let him in on their secrets. 

Armie pulls back slightly. Apparently likesTimmy’s answer because he puts his hand under Timmy’s chin. Tilts his head up slightly and says, “Good,” before kissing him. Gently at first, lips barely making contact. Not tentative but testing. 

Armie starts to move away, but Timmy grabs the front of his shirt to pull him closer. Kisses him, harder this time (and maybe it’s his imagination, but he thinks he hears Nick exhale.) Spreads his thighs so Armie nestles in against him. Nestles in and, fuck, Timmy can feel Armie’s cock against his own and--if anything--their exchange has made them both harder than before. And Timmy _really_ doesn’t care that people are coming and going. That there’s a comment of, “God damnit, Armie got the freshman,” 

(Words that Armie hears, too, apparently, because his hands move to possesively cup Timmy’s ass, pulling him closer to the edge of the counter, grinding softly against him and there’s no way they’re getting out of here without obvious bulges and, god, Timmy kind of wants that. Kind of wants to leave with Nick and Armie and have people stare. Have them know they’re about to hook up and-- “Jesus, Armie, gonna fuck him right in the--” someone starts and Armie turns his head enough to hiss, “Shut the fuck up,” before letting his tongue swipe along the corner of Timmy’s lips, easily gaining access to his mouth. Taking control of the kiss until Timmy’s hands loosen in Armie’s shirt. Until he moves his fingers to casually tuck into the front of Armie’s jeans, knuckles grazing skin and hair and _Armie_.) 

and Timmy feels sober. Not _sober-sober_ but sober enough to stop himself from rocking against Armie. From slipping his fingers down any further, from toying with the button on Armie’s pants. 

Sober enough to remember that they are at a fucking house party and when he opens his eyes, he first sees Armie’s face, his eyes closed, but then looks aside, his face turning a bit only to be pulled back by Armie’s thick fingers. But he looks and sees strangers’ eyes on them. Some watching out of their peripheral visions, a smirk on their lips. One or two blatantly staring. 

And then, Nick, still leaning against the door frame. Also staring but with a soft smile on his face that falters slightly when he catches Timmy’s eye. 

Timmy quickly closes his eyes again and pulls back from Armie. Untucks his hands from Armie’s pants and leans their foreheads together. “Um,” he whispers, only to be silenced by Armie’s lips again, insistent and firm. Only to have Armie grip his ass tighter and press in closer until--

“We should get out of here,” Nick’s voice says softly, suddenly right next to them. One of his hands slipping against the small of Timmy’s back. 

Timmy pulls awayand watches as Armie then turns his face to Nick like he’s going to steal a kiss from him, but Nick backs up. Shakes his head softly, which makes Armie frown. He keeps his hand on Timmy’s back as Armie pulls away and licks his lips. Adjusts himself and says, “I need to piss first,” and then, with confident strides, disappears to another room. 

Nick keeps his hand on Timmy’s back as he slides off the counter and brings his other hand to Timmy’s hip when he stumbles a bit, unsure if his legs are weak from alcohol or whatever the hell just happened. He keeps his head down, not really wanting to make eye contact with anyone; he’s not embarrassed, but he feels like he should be. Like he should be ashamed for making out with Armie at a house party and making it really fucking clear that he was about to do whatever Armie wanted him to and then Nick had to come and--

“We should wait outside, yeah?” Nick says. Slips his arm around Timmy’s waist and guides him out the side door where a few people are smoking in the yard. Gathered around a fire pit. It’s dark near the house and Nick gently pushes Timmy against the siding and brings a hand up to his cheek. Says, “Hey, are you okay?”

Timmy nods, but he can’t help thinking about how, before this, the most he’d ever done with someone in public is hold hands. Maybe kiss, but chaste and quick. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Nick asks. “Because you kinda look like you might throw up.”

In the shadows, it’s hard to make out Nick’s face, but his voice is soothing. Understanding, like he’s been in a similar situation. “I just, like. Everyone was watching and now they think--”

“They don’t think _anything_, Timmy. At the most, they’re thinking how lucky Armie is that he got to kiss you, okay? You did nothing out of the ordinary for a house party, okay? I mean--” And even in the dark, he can make out Nick’s big smile. “Okay, maybe you two were a little hotter than what usually goes on at a house party, but,” and Nick looks over Timmy’s body quickly. “You two can’t help the way you look.”

“The way we look?” 

Nick nods and leans in. Says, “You two look so hot together, just like I knew you would, Timmy. Do you know why Armie’s been so cold towards you?” Timmy shakes his head. “Because no one ever says ‘No’ to him. And you? You seem like you could.”

“I do?” Timmy asks. He finds that hard to believe, but Nick laughs and nods. Leans forward to kiss the corner of his mouth. 

“Armie was so pissed you wandered off when we got here. So jealous of that guy you talked to, those girls you danced with.” Timmy blinks when Nick kisses him square on the lips. Murmurs, “Armie is so hot when he’s jealous. When he thinks he needs to prove himself, Timmy. He’ll probably be so fucking needy tonight. Will try to play it off like he’s the one in control, but who’s in control, Timmy?”

Timmy remembers Armie telling him he calls the shots. “Me?”

Nick nods again and pushes away from the house just as the door slams open, the screen rattling on its hinges. “Ready?” Armie asks, not waiting for an answer from either of them. Wrapping a hand behind Nick’s neck and pulling him in for a deep kiss that Timmy wants to watch all night. A kiss that looks familiar and kind. Almost loving. 

And he _would_ watch all night, except Armie lets Nick back away and start heading for the sidewalk. Reaches out for Timmy and twirls one of his curls around his finger. “You ready, Timmy?” And his eyes, normally so focused, falter for a second. Darting from Timmy’s eyes, to his lips. Back to his eyes. 

Timmy shrugs and quickly pushes up on his tip toes. Kisses Armie’s cheek and insists, “Lead the way,” before leaning into Armie’s grip as he wraps an arm around Timmy’s waist. Guides him across the lawn to Nick, who is checking his phone. Looks up as they approach and starts heading back towards the dorms. 

Back towards the dorms where Timmy has no intention of backing out. Definitely not tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> bartbarthelme on tumblr.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Present tense was all we knew.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26839912) by [barthelme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/barthelme/pseuds/barthelme)


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